Lyra Bennet and the Marauder's Map
by IEatLeviathanForBreakfast
Summary: When Lyra Bennet first opened her letter from Hogwarts, all she wanted was to make a few friends who didn't know all about her famous mother or the attack. And just maybe she could pass herself off as a normal witch. Unfortunately, when the only people you know are nosy and outrageous as the Weasleys, normalcy isn't really a viable option.


Ieatleviathanforbreakfast

Chapter 1 – Hoggy, Warty Hogwarts

Lyra Bennet and the Marauder's Map

**IEatLeviathanForBreakfast**

A low rumble echoed through the small platform where a small group of children stood, huddled together from the cold, dwarfed by a man so tall and broad he looked simply too big to be allowed. Standing by the large man's feet, barely visible in the dark, was a small girl, fidgeting and worrying her lip anxiously as they waited. For a while the silence was only broken by the chattering of teeth and hushed complaints from the small group, until the man raised the lantern he was carrying, peering into the distance.

"Shouldn' be long more," he announced to the youngsters around him, "Smoke's on the horizon."

"It's been on the horizon for the last ten minutes," the girl by his feet grumbled quietly, although the man raised a great bushy eyebrow at her, apparently having heard her anyway.

"No' to my eyes it hasn', and no' to theirs either," he commented, glancing over his shoulder at the huddle of kids a few feet behind them. Though he said it lightly, the girl seemed to take it as a warning, dropping his gaze and scuffing her shoe on the pavement.

"Sorry Hagrid," she muttered.

"'S all right, jus' watch what yeh say round the other kids," the large man, Hagrid, warned her, then let the topic drop. "If we're lucky, we'll get up ter the castle before the storm comes."

"Couldn't we just go in the carriages?" the girl asked, "Most of us've already been to the castle before."

Hagrid chuckled and patted her shoulder with a hand the size of a bin lid, causing the girl to pitch forward slightly. When she righted herself he spoke,

"Goin' in the boat's a tradition, Lyra, one tha's not gonna' be broke jus' 'cause yeh're a little bored." Just as the girl, Lyra, was about to retort she was interrupted by the rumble of a steam engine and Hagrid turned away from her to face the other children present.

"Right, yeh lot sick close ter me, don' wander off," he ordered as a gleaming scarlet train pulled up to the dimly lit platform and teenagers and children clad in black robes flooded the pathway. As the small space was quickly taken over by the new arrivals Hagrid hoisted up his lantern and began yelling, "Firs' years! Firs' years over here!"

Lyra then realised very quickly that she wouldn't enjoy the same sense of personal space at school that she was used to having in the village, because kids in plain black robes like hers stumbled through the crowd and huddled in close to Hagrid, squishing her in amongst them. Having expected the other kids to keep their distance from her, it's fair to say Lyra was shocked at being suddenly enveloped in a swarm of first years.

"Firs' years follow me!" Hagrid was still yelling, as he counted them all, "Any more firs' years? Come on then, follow me!"

Lyra tried to stick to Hagrid's side as he led them from the station and along a steep narrow path through the forest, but didn't succeed with the other kids crowding in close and jostling her around. Preoccupied as she was by her own discomfort, Lyra didn't notice that Hagrid was still speaking to her fellow first years, or their collective 'Oooooh!" as the path widened suddenly onto the edge of the Black Lake. She did, however, notice the smug look Hagrid was wearing at her classmates awed looks as they saw Hogwarts for the first time.

Lyra had to admit, the school looked incredibly impressive where it was perched upon the jagged cliff opposite them. Its windows were lit up and gleaming in the darkness, and its turrets and towers seeming to touch the low hanging clouds.

She tried to pay attention as Hagrid pointed to the fleet of boats they'd be travelling in and ordered, "No more'n four to a boat!" and her classmates began scrambling toward the shore. She slid into an empty one, tapping out a rhythm on the bench next to her.

Lyra startled when someone slid onto the bench in front of her. The red-headed boy turned in his seat to grin at her, and was quickly followed into the boat by another boy with the same flaming ginger hair. The first boy held out his hand to her and Lyra shook it.

"Fred Weasley," he introduced himself as he took his hand back.

"And I'm George," the second boy added as he faced her as well. Now that both of their faces were illuminated by the boat's lantern she could see that they were definitely twins. She didn't know what to say, but had to reply with something, so she just said,

"I'm Lyra, Lyra Bennet."

The twins paused for a moment, regarding her a little differently now, and the one on the left, George, asked, "Are you really?"

Lyra nodded, feeling a lot more uncomfortable now, trying to come up with something to say that would distract the boys from her. Deciding that Quidditch was a good enough topic she tried to think of what to start with. She really regretted never listening to Minerva and her mum's 'discussions' about it. Fortunately, she didn't have to try and flounder her way through a conversation about Quidditch, because Hagrid had decided it was time to get going.

"Everyone in?" he asked from his boat. When no one replied the negative, he nodded to himself and said, "Right then – FORWARD!"

At his command their fleet of little boats moved off the shore all at once, gliding unaided across the gently undulating lake. Everyone was silent as they made their way toward the castle. Most of her classmates were taking the chance to drink in the view of the school rather than chat amongst themselves.

As the first boats reached the cliff Hagrid yelled, "Heads down!"

All of the first years obeyed, ducking their heads as the boats carried on through a veil of ivy that covered the arched opening in the rock. They carried on along a dark tunnel, the light from their lamps reflecting off the slick stone walls, and they eventually reached an underground harbour. There everyone stumbled from the boats to slip and stagger their way across the wet rocks and pebbles.

Lyra had expected the twins to go their own way once they left the boats behind. She was surprised when instead they walked along side her as they and their classmates clambered up a rocky passage following the glow of Hagrid's lamp. She tried not to smile at that, and hid behind her hair when she failed. As they emerged onto smooth, damp grass Lyra chanced a look up at the boys standing next to her. They were grinning excitedly and waggling their eyebrows at each other, looking ridiculous enough that a laugh slipped out before Lyra could stop it. Their grins were turned on her when the twins heard it, and she received a playful nudge from George as Fred snickered.

They reached the huge oak front door and the first years huddled around as Hagrid raised a giant fist and knocked three times. The door swung open as soon as he finished knocking, and in its place stood Minerva McGonagall, stern faced and dressed in a tall pointed hat and emerald green robes.

"I've got the firs' years, Professor McGonagall," Hagrid announced proudly, and the professor nodded sharply, pulling the heavy door open wide. Lyra resisted the urge to wave at her, reminding herself that within the school's walls Minerva was her teacher, not her mother's friend.

"Thank you, Hagrid. I will take them from here," she replied, ushering the students into the entrance hall. The familiar lantern lit walls and marble staircase was a comforting sight for Lyra, and she began to feel less like she was waiting to be interrogated.

Lyra tried to relax as she followed Minerva across the flagged stone floor, ignoring the drone of hundreds of voices coming from the doorway to her right. Minerva led the first years into a small, empty chamber off to the left and everyone squished in, peering about nervously. Well, everyone other than the twins. They stood tall and confident; looking for all the world like nothing could bother them.

"Welcome to Hogwarts," Minerva began when everyone settled down, launching into the speech Lyra _knew_ she used every year, "The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into your houses. The Sorting is an important ceremony, as while you are at Hogwarts your houses will be something like your family. You will go to classes with the rest of your house, sleep in your house dormitory, and spend free time in your house common room.

"The four houses are Ravenclaw, Gryffindor, Slytherin, and Hufflepuff. Each house has produced outstanding witches and wizards, and has its own noble history. While you are here, your triumphs will earn your house points, while any rule-breaking will lose house points. At the end of each year, the house with the most points is awarded the house cup, which is a great honour. I hope each of you will be a credit to whichever house becomes yours."

She glanced around at the new students surrounding her, looking slightly doubtful of them, and continued, "The Sorting ceremony will take place in a few minutes in front of the rest of the school. I suggest you tidy yourselves up as much as possible while you wait," she suggested, eyes lingering on a blonde haired boy with an odd green stain on the front of his robes.

"I will return when we're ready for you. Wait quietly." With that she left the chamber.

As soon as they were alone the other students started to chatter amongst themselves. Lyra heard them asking things all along the lines of, "How do they sort us into houses?" Theories were thrown about by other students, all of them ridiculous and ranging from having to perform spells, to drawing blood, to battling a troll. Lyra tried not to laugh; she really did, because she knew most families didn't tell children how the sorting was done. She didn't understand why, but that's how it was, and she was one of the lucky few whose mother didn't believe in such nonsense. However, despite her best efforts she couldn't contain a smirk that she tried to hide behind her hand.

It didn't work, because George raised an eyebrow at her and asked, "What're you smiling about?"

Lyra just shook her head, said, "You'll see," and left it at that. He didn't get a chance to ask any more questions because Minerva returned and everyone's attention was once again on her.

"The Sorting Ceremony is about to start," she declared and started organising them into a line. When she was satisfied with their arrangement Minerva led them from the chamber. Lyra followed along behind a tall girl with her brown hair done up in an elaborate twist, and noticing that most of the girls had their hair done up just as ornately, felt a little bit underdressed.

As they entered the Great Hall she forced herself to keep her chin up, back straight and shoulders back, and keeping an air of calm confidence, just like her mother taught her. Lyra avoided looking at the four long tables where the rest of the students were sitting. Instead she focused on how the thousands and thousands of floating candles lit up the vast room with their gentle glow, and the dark thunder clouds moving across the ceiling.

When they reached the top of the hall Minerva lined them up in front of the High Table so they were facing the other students, with the teachers sitting behind them. Lyra reluctantly peeled her gaze away from the night's sky above her as Minerva silently placed an old four-legged stool in front of them. Atop the stool she gently placed an old pointed hat that was patched, frayed and extremely dirty. Lyra watched with the rest of the school as, after a few seconds of silence, the hat twitched. A rip near the brim opened wide like a mouth, and the Sorting Hat launched into its song:

"I may not be a handsome hat,

But I care not, and nor should you,

For it's your insides I look at,

As it's what I was made to do.

Plucked from Gryffindor's head I was,

A thousand years ago,

Given the brains to sort you lot,

When the founders bid us ado.

There's nothing in your mind,

You can keep from me,

So wear me snug about your ears,

And I'll tell you where you ought to be.

You may go to Gryffindor,

If you've got nerve and daring,

Or a chivalrous bearing.

In Hufflepuff you may find home,

If you're patient and fair,

And willing to do your share.

You could belong in Ravenclaw,

If you have the wit and expertise,

You'll fit in there with ease.

Or Slytherin may be the best fit,

For those of cunning and determination,

There you'll find your station.

I'll find your home, you can be sure,

I've yet to choose wrong!

Now I'll sort you out, rest assured,

For it's the end of my song!"

The Hat finished with a flourish, and the hall burst into applause. It bowed to each of the four tables and became still once again. As it did so, Minerva stepped forward holding a long roll of parchment and addressed the first years.

"When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted," she said, and the relief of the other first years was palpable. She then proceeded to go through the role, calling, "Abernathy, James," to come forward first. He stumbled his way to the stool, and it didn't take the hat very long at all to shout out, "RAVENCLAW!"

The table second from the left cheered and clapped as James hurried to sit down. Several of the students stood to shake his hand as he joined them. They went through the next few names just as quickly. "Adams, Jenny" became the first Hufflepuff and this time it was the table to the right that erupted into applause. She was followed by, "Avery, Daniel". "Baker, Joseph" became the years' first Gryffindor and the table on the far left exploded with cheers.

The first person to take more than a few seconds was, "Barton, Amelia," a slim girl with sandy blonde hair, pale green eyes and a pretty face. She sat for almost a minute before the hat bellowed out, "SLYTHERIN!"

The table on the far right cheered for their first new member as enthusiastically as the other houses and Lyra felt a stab of anxiety. Would she end up there with Amelia? Would she be a Slytherin, just like her mum? Lyra knew her mother would love her no matter what house she was sorted into, but knew she'd be so proud if Lyra was put in her old house. Luckily, Minerva called out, "Bennet, Lyra" before she could work herself up into a panic.

Lyra tried to keep her breathing even as she approached the stool and took the hat. The last thing she saw before the hat slipped over her eyes was a half of the hall straining to get a good look at her, curious and confused, and then she was looking at the black lining of the hat. Keeping her nerves at a manageable level Lyra waited. Just as she was starting to worry nothing was happening, she heard the whisper of a breathy voice in her head.

_Hmm..._ It said. It sounded pleased, for whatever reason. _I was wondering if I'd ever see another Black_. It continued, almost joyfully, and Lyra would swear its rip-mouth was stretching into a smile. Lyra didn't really care, she was confused.

_Black?_ She thought, _My name's Bennet, is your hearing alright?_

_Cheeky_, It commented, _Seems to be a family trait. Now, where to put you? Where to put you? You are a tricky one. You've got quite a mind, wit enough for Ravenclaw. Curiosity that's just about boundless. But no, Ravenclaw won't do. Perhaps a bit too devious? A tad too ruthless?_ It mused, then went silent for a brief moment.

_Slytherin maybe?_ It said. _You've certainly got the determination, the cunning, a certain disregard for rules. There's definitely power, oh yes, plenty of power. You would undoubtedly excel in Slytherin. Your family has for generations, why wouldn't you?_ The hat paused, seemed to take a breath.

_Yes_, Lyra thought, _Yes, this is it. It's putting me in Slytherin!_

But it didn't. It let out the breath and trailed off. There was another silence that could've lasted seconds or minutes, Lyra couldn't tell, she was too busy wondering what was going on, and trying to get the Hat to explain why it had stopped.

_What?_ She asked it, _What is it? What's wrong, why aren't you doing anything? Did I break you? Just_ _my luck_, she thought frustrated, _I've broken the Sorting Hat. Now I'll never get sorted_.

Her worries were for nothing though, because the Hat spoke again. Although, this time she felt as though she was eavesdropping on a conversation rather than taking part in one. Gripping the sides of the stool she waited, thinking over and over again, _Just put me in Slytherin_, like a mantra.

_What's this?_ That had said, voice no longer sounding gleeful, instead coming across as unsure. _What you want, more than greatness, is a challenge. Interesting... and you have potential, lots of it, plenty of nerve, a frankly worrying disregard for your own safety_.

After another long pause that Hat continued, with much more conviction than it had previously held, _Slytherin isn't a good fit, not at all. A terrible idea_.

_What? No it isn't!_ Lyra tried to argue, but it was no use, apparently the Hat had made up its mind.

_Yes, yes, I'm quite sure. Your destiny, young Miss Black, lies in_, and she heard it bellow the next word out so the whole school could hear it, "GRYFFINDOR!"

When the shout stopped echoing around the hall Lyra pulled off the hat, and dropped it back onto the stool. She walked toward the Gryffindor table, where they were shouting and applauding for her, on slightly shaky legs, though she tried not to show it.

Gryffindor? She asked herself, confused, as Joseph, the only other first year Gryffindor so far, hugged her. She was still having trouble understanding it as she sat down and the Sorting continued. Ravenclaw, she could've seen coming, she'd always been clever. Slytherin, she would've understood. She'd always been sneaky, determined, and underhanded if she was honest with herself.

She'd never even considered fitting into either of the other houses. Sure, she worked hard, and she was loyal. But she didn't exactly play fairly, and honesty was never her strong suit. So Hufflepuff was out. While Lyra will admit that she can be cheeky and short tempered, she's never considered herself reckless, daring, or particularly chivalrous, and has never felt the need for pointless heroics. So theoretically, Gryffindor should be out of the question.

Apparently the Sorting Hat didn't get the message. Or it might just be a few stitches short of a mend – it does look awfully beaten up.

Too caught up in her own surprise and bewilderment, Lyra didn't pay much attention to the sorting for a while. Instead, she chanced a look up to the High Table, where the staff sat. In the centre, sitting on in a large gold chair was Professor Albus Dumbledore, proudly wearing bright blue robes embroidered with gold stars and a matching pointed hat, his silvery beard shining as bright as the ghosts dotted among the students.

The headmaster noticed her looking and returned her gaze from over the top of his half-moon glasses. He gave her an encouraging nod along with a small smile, his twinkling eyes undeniably fondly. In reply she offered him an unsure smile of her own. He subtly gestured to the boy taking his place on the stool and Lyra reluctantly turned her attention back to the Sorting. She did so just in time to hear "Diggory, Cedric" be sorted into Hufflepuff.

It wasn't exactly her idea of entertaining, but the Sorting moved quickly enough, and soon she was sitting across from two other new Gryffindors, Angelina and Lee, who were sitting next to Joseph invested in some discussion about Quidditch. At least she got the chance to talk with a tall seventh year who introduced himself as Charlie, and turned out to be the twins' older brother. And although he wore a badge that declared him Quidditch captain, he was much more interested in talking about dragons than the sport, so time moved along quickly for Lyra.

During her talk with Charlie Lyra discovered that she was the years' first Hatstall, the only one so far, as the Sorting Hat took a whole five and a half minutes to decide she was a Gryffindor. Apparently it'd been the longest Hatstall for quite a while, and Charlie joked good naturedly that she might hold a record for it.

If she was going to hold a record for taking the longest, then "Peverell, Gabriel" was definitely going to have one for being the quickest. The Hat had barely touched his chestnut brown hair when it screamed out, "SLYTHERIN!" Minerva accepted the Hat back, looking surprised, and he made his way to the table on the far right, looking rather indifferent.

By the time it was the twins' turn there were only three students left standing. The two redheads took hardly no time at all to be declared Gryffindors, and enthusiastically joined their house, squeezing in between Charlie and Lyra. Charlie clapped them both on the back in congratulations, and they simultaneously stuck their tongues out at another red haired boy a little way down the table from them. He glowered at them and turned back to the person sitting next to him.

"That's our brother Percy," George explained upon seeing Lyra's confused look.

"He's a git," Fred added, and George grunted in agreement. Charlie laughed but didn't contradict them, so Lyra decided to take Fred's word for it.

After the twins "Wordsworth, Rachel" was put in Ravenclaw, and the ceremony finally ended. As Minerva put away the scroll and took the Sorting Hat from the hall, Dumbledore rose to his feet. He took a moment to beam at the students, his arms raised and open wide, his expression delighted, as though nothing would make him happier than them all being there does.

"Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts!" he said, "I would like to say a few words before we begin our banquet. Here they are: Crumpets! Humbug! Tweak! Nitwit! Thank you!" and he sat back down. Everybody clapped and cheered. Lyra laughed. The twins whooped and cat-called.

"Is he a little bit mad?" the girl on Lyra's other side asked no one in particular.

"You've got no idea," Lyra replied seriously, and the girl – Lyra was pretty sure her name was Alicia – made a face, but accepted that Lyra was probably telling the truth.

The plates in front of them suddenly filled, and heaped upon them was every food you could ever want to eat. So, Lyra, along with the rest of the school, dug in. As they piled their plates high with everything they could reach George asked,

"D'you know Dumbledore?"

Lyra nodded, "He works with my mum sometimes. She's an Alchemist," she explained.

"I've heard of her!" Fred exclaimed through a mouth full of chicken. He swallowed and continued, "She was in _The Prophet_ a few months ago wasn't she?" he asked, and then before she could answer turned to George and boasted, "I knew Lyra's name sounded familiar!"

That led the conversation onto their families, and as they ate Lyra was thoroughly entertained with stories of the Weasley children's misadventures. They chattered and joked throughout dinner and dessert, and if either of them noticed that Lyra dodged the subject of her own family whenever it came up, they didn't mention it. Soon, though, it stopped coming up at all, and for that Lyra was grateful. As they talked Lyra started to feel the tension the Sorting caused leak from her shoulders. For the first time she thought the damn Hat might just know what it's doing, because she was actually having fun, with people who just might become her _friends_.

Once the last scraps of dessert had been cleared from the plates Dumbledore stood once more. The hall fell silent immediately.

"Just a few more words now that we're all full and satisfied. As usual I have a few start-of-term notices to give you," he began, "First years should note that the Dark Forest is forbidden to all pupils. Mr Filch, our caretaker, has asked me to remind you all that no magic should be used in the corridors between classes. Also, Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of term. Anyone interested in playing for their house team should contact Madame Hooch.

"Finally, before we go to bed, we should sing the school song!" he finished enthusiastically. Lyra saw that the staffs' smiles had all become rather forced, even her mother's.

With a flick of his wand Dumbledore conjured a long golden ribbon, which rose high above the tables and twisted itself gracefully into words.

"Everyone pick their favourite tune," Dumbledore instructed, "and off we go!"

The whole school bellowed:

"Hogwarts, Hogwarts, Hoggy, Warty Hogwarts,

Teach us something please,

Whether we be old and bald

Or young with scabby knees,

Our heads could do with filling

With some interesting stuff,

For now they're bare and full of air,

Dead flies and bits of fluff,

So teach us things worth knowing,

Bring back what we've forgot,

Just do your best, we'll do the rest,

And learn until our brains all rot."

When they finished Lyra yawned so wide she cracked her jaw and followed their prefect to the Gryffindor dormitory. She hoped she'd remember all the twists and turns they took on the way there, but as she changed into her pyjamas in the girl's dormitory she decided it was unlikely she would. And as she flopped down onto her four-poster bed, she found she was far too tired to care. As she drifted off to sleep she thought that maybe, just maybe, she could make being a Gryffindor work, even if she wasn't much like what a Gryffindor should be.


End file.
